A Threat Unseen
by InjaMorgan
Summary: The Master, the Doctor: The last two Timelords are travelling the universe, discovering and saving worlds … everything seems fine … isn't it? Sequel to my "Two Sides of the Same Coin"
1. It's just a beginning

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to the BBC, really, everything, and Matt Smith is creepy …

**Rating:** T, I think … no change planned right now …

**Summary:** The Master, the Doctor: the last two Timelords are travelling the universe, discovering and saving worlds … everything seems fine … isn't it? Sequel to my "Two Sides of the Same Coin"

**A/N:** _Yeah, I'm finally back! Well … after all, I promised it, didn't I?_

_If you don't know "Two Sides of the Same Coin" yet, please go and read it. This story is probably also understandable if you haven't read the first part, but there will be some points where it will be complete rubbish without the knowledge._

_Anyway, I'm getting epic with this story. I have so many ideas for it that I think about dividing this second part so it will become a trilogy. I'm still not sure about it, though, because there is no moment in it planned were I could make a "break" …_

_However, there are still many little holes to fill in my great big plan, and I'm just two chapters ahead with the German original (any German readers, go to my profile and click on the link, I know you want to…) so please don't expect a quick update. Additionally, university is still breathing down my neck and tortures me with exams and homework, but I'll try and write as quickly as I can._

_Again,__** oddood**__ was my little magic beta. Thank you that you still let me pester you with my ideas, and also a great, big "Thank you" to all the readers who returned and, hopefully, are enjoying the sequel :D_

*+-M-*-D+*

**A Threat Unseen**

Chapter One – It's just a beginning

The door had barely closed behind the Master when the Doctor started the time-engine and transported them out of this unfortunate incident.

"First laserguns on Sa-Nox and now muskets on your beloved earth in the 17th century … I'm actually thinking about New Earth being a better idea after all!" The Master took in a deep breath, leaning back on the cool wood at his back, exhausted from the run. This had been tight, really, bloody tight …

"Yeah, this time I blabbed it … I did completely forget that the Spanish were so superstitious." The Doctor grinned and looked at the other Time Lord for the first time since he had sprinted into the Tardis; but he didn't like what he saw: The Master had his eyes closed, pressing his hand on his left shoulder, his face tensed and unusually pale.

"Everything alright?"

The Master opened his eyes, looking at the Doctor out of small slots. "Yes, yes, I'm just not used to running all day long for my dear life", he answered cynically.

The Doctor went round the control desk of the Tardis and towards his comrade. "Master, don't try to lie to me." Almost a yard away from the other Time Lord he stopped and pointed at the Master's left shoulder. "Did you get hurt?"

"Just a scratch." The Master seemed to cling on his shoulder even more tightly.

"Let me see." Another step; the Doctor was now really close, too close.

"Stop badgering me!" The Master took automatically his right hand to push the Doctor away and left a bloody stain on the chest of the Timelord.

"Shit."

"You're bleeding!"

"Wow, what a realization!" The Master pressed his hand quickly back on the wound and ignored the blood running down his arm. "Apparently not all of those stupid soldiers were bad at aiming."

On the Doctor's face was every aspect of worry, fear and pity visible. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I can take care of myself pretty well", the Master muttered as he pushed himself slightly off the door and setting his sight on the entrance to the corridors, but suddenly the world span before his eyes and his legs felt like rubber. He realized that he fell, how the grating under his feet came nearer and nearer, but there was no impact, something prevented him from it …

The Doctor had caught him, trying not to fell down himself despite of the additional weight of the Master.

"I don't think so…" the Doctor groaned and attempted to help the Time Lord in his arms back on his feet. "Off to the Med Bay with you; there I can treat your wound."

The Master sighed, giving up. Arguing now was completely senseless, he couldn't even stand upright, let alone comment on the actions of the Doctor sarcastically … Additionally, Yana was right, even Time Lords could die of a too high loss of blood.

Bloody damned, everything.

+M*D+

"Argh!"

The Master pulled a face and clenched his teeth. Why the hell had he to insist on doing this without any local anaesthetic?

"Keep still, unless you want it to hurt even more."

Again, warm blood flowed down the Master's arm and torso. He sat on the operating table of the Med Bay and clung desperately onto the small rest of dignity that was left inside of him. His shirt and hoodie lay cut into two next to him, and the Doctor poked in the wound in his left shoulder for a seemingly endless eternity.

"At last…" The Doctor let the lead bullet fall into the bowl on the table together with the bloodstained tweezers, and finally turned away the too bright operating light, so that the Master could see the worry in the other Time Lord's face. The wound shouldn't bleed anymore, actually …

The Doctor pressed a cotton wool pad carefully on the shoulder. "Could you just put a finger on that, I have to choose a fitting needle." The Master followed the instruction with a quiet mumbling, but noticed after a few seconds that his fingertips were already wet. Damn, why did this always happen to him?

"Thanks, that's enough." The Doctor was next to him again and had a small plastic packet in his gloved right hand. "You don't want an anaesthetic for this, either?" He took the needle out of the packaging and peeled the blood-soaked pad of the wound with the other hand.

"I'm not a kid anymore, just start." The Master closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The Doctor knew what he was doing…

The first stitch into his skin hurt a little, but it was more endurable than the endless poking in the bullet wound. The Doctor sutured with an accustomed, even rhythm; stitch, knot, next stitch. The injury wasn't that big, but a fine suture ensured that the Master didn't die of losing too much blood.

For a few minutes it was completely quiet; the Doctor concentrating on his work and the Master listening into himself. He searched for any sign, the famous little itching in the stomach which every Time Lord sooner or later felt when he or she was wounded. It could be suppressed if the injury was small, and only if it was life-threatening this inner energy was stronger than any mind's control, however … there was nothing. Really, nothing, not even a tiny little spark which could accelerate the healing … just … emptiness …

Besides, after this whole dilemma he heard Koschei again, slightly laughing, and the drums, deep, deep below, not much louder than his own heartbeat, and that nearly … frightened him more than his sudden incompetence to regenerate. And he hated it so much to be frightened.

He sighed again as the Doctor just made the last knot.

"Everything alright?" the Doctor asked concernedly and looked up, but the other Time Lord shook his head a bit, a grim smile on his lips.

"Yeah, everything alright with me!" he said sarcastically. "I was only shot by a bloody rifleman who wouldn't strike a Slitheen on the distance of two yards, I'm bleeding like a pig and on top of all, you ruined my clothes!" He took in a deep breath and rubbed his eyes with thumb and index finger of his free hand. "And I have a hell of a headache…"

"This could be because of the blood you lost." The Doctor reached for the dressing material, and started to wrap the first layer of gauze around the Master's shoulder. "You should rest and sleep a bit, so the wound can heal quicker."

You shouldn't be so confident about that, the Master thought, but just shook his head and said grimly: "I won't take orders from you."

"Master, please…" The Doctor stopped for a moment, carefully holding the half unrolled bandage. "You're my patient, and it's also partly my fault–"

"Your fault?" the Master interrupted the other Time Lord harshly before the latter could drown in his own sentimental blabbering. "As far as I can remember I did voluntarily choose to join into this madness. So patch me up as good as you can, and if my _doctor_ insists on it," he rolled his eyes and sighed, "I will go into my room for four hours and won't make a single sound. But not one second longer!" He tried to look at the Doctor as dangerously as possible, but he was quite sure that he looked more like wretchedness in person right now as the world-controlling Master of all.

"Right, four hours." The Doctor nodded smiling and unrolled the last bit of the gauze. He fixed the whole thing with two little clips and then patted gently the Master's other shoulder. "Already done!" The Doctor turned, grinned, pulled off the gloves and hummed some silly earth song while he cleared up the operating table.

The other Time Lord just sighed. Great, the Doctor had found his good mood again. He looked to the side where the sad remains of his clothes lay. He lifted his beloved hoodie carefully, but the fact hadn't changed that he could use it maybe as a fashionable jacket now or … as a rag.

"Here, for the dried blood." Suddenly the Doctor stood next to him, holding out some wet tissue papers. "Shall I go and look for a sling for your arm?"

"Did I already say that I can take perfectly care of myself?" the Master mumbled, but took the papers and started to wipe the crimson traces off his arm and side.

"Yep, you did, and I will do only one more thing…" The Doctor leaned behind the Master and grabbed the destroyed clothes. "I will give those to the Tardis; she is just magnificent in mending!" He grinned his famous 100-watt grin and put the clothes on a small table where normally the surgical instruments lay. The pile of cloth shimmered for a moment and vanished into thin air.

"You'll leave my clothes to a ship?" the Master yelled, utterly stunned, and threw the papers into the bin without looking. "What did you teach your Tardis beside that? Can she also cook?"

"Oi, I'm a very good cook myself!" The Doctor turned to the Master indignantly.

"Yeah, and it's very likely that you even burn the water!" the Master giggled and let himself carefully slid down of the operating table. He felt well, actually, but falling again literally into the Doctor's arms … no, he had a tiny bit of his dignity left, and he wanted to keep it, thank you very much.

"Oh, shall I prove you the opposite? What's your favourite meal?" The Doctor was miffed; he didn't like it when such untruths were spread about him

"Fast food lady, well-done" the Master said, grinning wolfishly. He had straightened himself a bit; still not really sure if his legs would carry him.

The Doctor pulled a face and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "No endangered or protected species."

"Oh, how sad…" The Master's grin became even wider, making him a perfect imitation of the Cheshire Cat. "Not even a teensy weensy finger?"

"Master, stop it."

"Aw, you're such a drag." He took a slow step towards the Doctor; another one and was very relieved that he did not collapse again. But he surely looked still very miserable, only half clothed, his shoulder bandaged, and probably patches of dried blood all over his body. "But it was just an honest answer to your question."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Then it was a stupid question."

The Master stopped barely a yard in front of the other Time Lord. "The Doctor asks a stupid question? Oh, what has happened to the genius of the Prydonian Chapter?"

"He has grown up. And now out!" The Doctor was behind the Master within the blink of the eye and pushed him out of the room with gentle force.

"Grown up? You mean old!" The Master grinned as they stood in the hallway. He looked around; let's find out where the Tardis had hidden his room this time.

"Hey, who is old? As far as I can remember you're three months older than me!"

"As if three months would be important when it's 970 years!" He turned his back at the Doctor and took the corridor to his left. It didn't look so … dark.

"It's only 907!" the Doctor shouted after him.

The Master was already halfway down the corridor, but giggled at this comment and stretched out his hand and wiggled with his index finger reproachfully. "There is someone still lying about his age!" He did not turn, but could perfectly imagining the Doctor blushing as red as a tomato.

"Oi!"

However, the Master was already around the corner, and the Doctor realized that every further discussion with the other Time Lord was the most senseless and useless undertaking in the whole wide universe.

They both knew each other too well, so many, too many little secret details of the life of the other one, almost as if they were … married.

A chill ran down the Doctor's spine at this thought. Bad thought. Concentrate on something other. Bananas. Always good. Banana yoghurt? Even better.

He turned right, heading towards the kitchen. Let's see how filled his stocks of banana yoghurt were.

*+-M-*-D+*

_I just remembered that I can't speak "clothes" out lo__ud without accidently biting my tongue off. The more I try it, the more awkward it sounds … German hasn't got the "th"-sound, and the additional soft "s" makes it even more difficult … sorry, I'm rambling …_

_Anyway …__ there are two polls for you on my profile. Just do me the favour and go there, make two clicks, so I know what you think._

_Oh, and don't forget to review! Reviews are love … and you'll even get answers this time, promised!_


	2. Morning Persons

**Disclaimer:** *pats the chibis* Good chibis, now go to the BBC and get me the rights! … *giggles* sadly, even my chibis are just borrowed ._.

**A/N:** _Ok, Monday is a really unusually time for me to update, but I simply didn't want you to wait for a chapter which is ready and waiting to be read. My glorious beta __**oddood**__ had been away over the weekend so she couldn't check it, but now it's done and … I hope you'll like it like the first chapter :D_

_By the way, thanks for all the reviews. After some of you found the story only with the help of my massive advertising (hehe), all of you seem to like it :-) And it's one of my favourite theories about the Doctor that he is lying about his age: I think of him as one of those people which are actually 40 (in Timelord-Years 1000, which is a horrible age for them) but always say that they are 39 ;-)_

_Oh, and __just to calm my little inner spelling-nazi: It's sequel, with an "e". I'm bilingual, and spelling is the first thing I had to look at when I learned the language xD_

**A Threat Unseen**

Chapter Two – Morning Persons

*+-M-*-D+*

The Doctor stretched and yawned, standing in front of the kitchen cupboard and considered what to eat. Almost six hours had passed since he had sent the Master to his room, and until now he had not appeared again, so the other Time Lord probably still slept peacefully in his bed. Completely understandable after such an injury. The Doctor had dozed off himself a few times; a bit uncomfortable under the central console, but half an hour of sleep was perfectly well with him. Now he needed just some tea and a few slices of toast to feel entirely fit.

Toast, a good keyword. He reached for the refrigerator, pulling out the bag with toasting bread; put two slices into the toaster and then the kettle on the oven. Time for a little breakfast.

The Doctor had just sat down again and drank the first sip of his strong black tea when the door opened and the Master shuffled slowly into the kitchen. He still had his black jeans on, but in the place of his hoodie was a loose-fitting greyish shirt, and the Doctor grinned when he saw the print on it: _Kiss me, I'm a psychopath._

"Morning, did you sleep well?" the Doctor asked, and took another sip from his tea.

The other Time Lord's glance and the annoyed grunt were the only answer the Doctor got, and he realized that the Master was still not a morning person … eh … Time Lord.

Meanwhile, aforesaid Time Lord stood in front of the cooker, staring at the kettle as if he could hypnotize it.

"Coffee."

"Sorry, I've none." The Doctor put his cup back on the table and took his jam butty. "Tea is better, anyway."

The Master hung his head, shuffled back to the table and plumped down into the chair opposite the Doctor's. For a short moment he looked at the other Time Lord with sleepy eyes, before he fell forwards and hit the tabletop not very gently with his forehead.

"Coffee…"

"We could go shopping." The Doctor shoved the last piece of bread into his mouth with an amused smile and licked his fingers clean so he wouldn't waste a drop of his precious banana-strawberry-jam.

The Master muttered something to the tabletop.

"Well, I can't help you then." The Doctor took again his cup and emptied it in one gulp.

"I hate you." The Master seemed to speak to the table because his head hadn't moved a bit.

"Is this anything new?" Placing his cup on the crumb-covered plate, the Doctor stood up and put both into the sink. At least he hadn't to do the washing-up.

"No, I do really hate you." The Master breathed in, raised his head and rested it on his hands. "Once, _one stupid time_ I decided to sleep and your _bloody_ Tardis does _everything_ to keep me from it!"

The Doctor turned around in amazement. "Pardon?"

The Master sighed and massaged his eyes. "At first she thought it fun to change my mattress every few minutes. There was _everything_ from hard-like-wood to soft-like-feathers. Then there were those incredible spine-chilling sounds out of my cupboard and such annoying moans from the walls…" He had a quick look at the Doctor. "You have too many ghost stories in your library…" He turned his head again and talked to the kitchen wall. "And finally, I wandered through those damned corridors for the last two hours, seeking the kitchen." His head fell once again on the table, missing the toast holder by an inch.

The Doctor bit his lip not to start laughing out loudly.

"And now you don't even have coffee!"

The Doctor gulped to suppress the childlike giggle which worked its way up his throat.

"Well…" He tried to sound seriously. "The old girl had some unfinished business with you."

"Eh?" The Master raised his head in confusion, but only saw the Doctor's back who rummaged through the wall-cupboards.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm searching for something…" He closed the cupboard and opened the one right to it. "And just to remind you, I wasn't the one who turned her into a paradox machine!"

"Oh, don't say she is still bitchy because of that!" The Master leaned back and gave the walls of the kitchen a hopefully withering look.

"Bitchy is the understatement of the millennium, I would rather say…" The Doctor turned to the Master to emphasize his words. "M**urderous**." Then he rummaged once again through the cupboard. "Trust me; I needed many good arguments that she must not use the time-stabiliser module to electrocute you."

"What?" The Master got up and stood next to the Doctor, peeking into the cupboard. Rice, pasta, eggs, beans … any possible food was piled in the small place.

"Yeah, she was really shirty and … ha, I knew it!" The Doctor slipped a tin box into the Master's hand with a triumphant smile. "Not real coffee, but some instant cappuccino should do it, shouldn't it?"

The Master stared at the box, and then back to the other Timelord. "You can't be serious!"

"Eh … yes, I am, why do you ask?" The Doctor raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"Because … oh, forget it." The Master put the box on the working surface, turning it skilfully so that the other Time Lord couldn't see the neat handwritten sentence on the bottom end of it. _Property of R. Tyler._

"You're even more confusingly than usual." The Doctor shook his head and grabbed the kettle. "How's your shoulder?" he asked as he poured water in it.

The Master leaned against the cupboard, crossing his arms in front of the chest. "Well."

_Liar._

"Shut up, Yana."

"Did you say something?" The Doctor looked up from the filled kettle, to the other Time Lord, who in return just shook his head. Actually, the Master had not wanted to reprimand Yana aloud, but it had simply slipped out … in the hours alone in his room he had argued with Yana the whole time, and now he had to re-adapt to the fact that the Doctor _couldn't_ hear the old man.

But why did Yana always have to be right?

"I just said that everything is alright with me. And stop to act so solicitous, I'm not one of your little ape girls." He took the kettle gruffly from the Doctor, put it loudly on the oven and turned the heat on.

"Oi, who's an ape girl?"

"Martha Jones, Rosie-Posie, and what was her name, Donna?" The Master grinned at the other Time Lord and grabbed a clean mug which was left over of the Doctor's searching, standing on the sink. "Although, I should add the Freak and the old man, but then ape girls wouldn't fit anymore…" He took the box and a spoon out of the drawer, shovelling the powder into the mug. "How about ape friends?"

"Master, stop insulting my companions!"

"Oh, you even don't call them your friends, they're just companions!" The grin became even wider; the Master stroked his chin and his not anymore existent beard in pretended thoughtfulness. "And what am I? Companion? Comrade? Or did I degenerate into a little pet of yours?"

"You're my friend." The seriousness in the Doctor's voice froze the smile in the face of the Master for a second, but the situation was eased by the whistling kettle. The Master just turned around, poured the boiling water into his mug, stirred and took the mug in his hands. "Doesn't matter", was his only statement.

After another moment the Doctor had also recovered and made a few steps into the room, just to turn back to the Master, who still stood on the same spot, with his back turned towards the Doctor and sipping his cappuccino. "Well, I'm in the Console Room, just follow when you're ready, ok?"

"Yeah…"

Another step and the Doctor stopped again, this time in the door-frame. "Ah, and this was a brilliant choice of shirt!" He laughed, and was out of the room, ignoring the groaning of the other Time Lord.

What a great choice did the Master had …It had been either this lousy, dull shirt or the wonderful pink version of his beloved hoodie …

*+-M-*-D+*

_Well … Just think of those two chapters as a veeery long prologue. __The real action will begin in the next chapter, promised :-)_


	3. Of Darkness and Prophecies

**Disclaimer:** No … still not mine … how can you even think of that? O_O

**A/N:** _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, so incredibly sorry *throws myself into the dust in front of your feet* I'm so horrible at updating!_

_In fact, t__here are some actual reasons for the three week break, mostly my immense writer's block. I'm completely stuck in the beginning of the fifth chapter in the German original, and as long as I don't write there, I won't translate any more chapters. I'm so sorry for that, but I know that if I ever catch up with myself, I would just drop the story. So, basically, you have to accept a longer time of no updates._

_Anyway, I greatly appreciated every single review of yours (ok, except that one by TheHypocrite, but I'm pretty sure that he/she/it is just a troll, and how is the saying, __the wiser head gives in) However__, I got a bit confused … homoerotic? Where is this story homoerotic? *laughs* The shirt? Or is the slightest body contact between the Master and the Doctor already slash? And just to calm everybody: There will never ever be slash in this story. Though, you should never say never ever *coughs* …_

_So, quoting the Master, (and thanking Tak__membrane with this for the wonderful picture his/her review gave me): This should be … spectacular! :-D_

**A Threat Unseen**

Chapter Three – Of Darkness and Prophecies

*+-M-*-D+*

Astonishingly, they did not run back to the Tardis this time.

It had been a small jungle planet which the Doctor discovered per coincidence, very peaceful, and the two Timelords only had to help the inhabitants with a little problem concerning their water. The PetrOxians had accidentally built their fountain on a patch of earth which contained too much copper, and the water caused symptoms of poisoning amongst the people of the small village they had encountered. It was just brilliant teamwork: The Doctor mixed an antidote out of the Tardis' stocks, and the Master helped to build a new fountain on a safer spot. After the little banquet, which had been organized especially for them, they sneaked away into the night and stepped, a little tipsy from the bootleg alcohol, back into their ship.

"Hey, was the Tardis open the whole time?" the Doctor asked with confusion as he went to put his key into the lock, but instead, the door swung open easily.

"I've no idea, I don't care, I want to get away from here, and fast…" The Master staggered more into the Tardis than actually walked, and flopped giggling onto the pilot's chair. "Well, play a nice little chauffeur, I'm so _curious_ what you have to offer!" He threw his head back and laughed at the top of his voice.

"I don't know, maybe it would be better … hic … if we sleep it off." The Doctor tottered towards the console, but already flicked the first switch, which brought them into the vortex with a little rumbling.

"I give a bloody shit on it, that's fun! Imagine us, meeting Daleks!" The Master grinned at the other Timelord. "Or Autons, they would be funny!"

"Or Cybermen … or something which could actually laugh when two drunken Timelords are staggering towards them." The Doctor laughed out loud, and immediately corresponded to his description as he lumbered around the console and turned a little wheel here, a little wheel there, pushed a little switch … hey, since when exactly did this little purple light flash every few seconds?

A shake of the Tardis let the Doctor finally lose his hold and he landed roughly on his bottom, which only caused him to laugh louder. But then it was suddenly dark, the complete Tardis became dark as night, and a bell started to sound somewhere in the inside in an even rhythm. A moment later the emergency lighting went on and flooded the console room with an eerie crimson light.

"This … is not good." The laughter was stuck in the Doctor's throat, and he was suddenly very sober again. Also the Master shook his head, like he wanted to get rid of some nasty animal in his hair, and then looked at the other Timelord with wide eyes. "What has happened?"

"I don't know." The Doctor pulled himself up at the console and flipped a lever tentatively, then another, pushed a button, but not even the emergency lighting changed. He listened closely, but the sound of the bell was unmistakable. The Cloister Bell.

"Something threatened the Tardis, but normally she doesn't shut down in the middle of the Vortex completely …" He searched for something in the pocket of his jacket. Fortunately, he found a small torch relatively quick and crawled under the console. Only this morning he had checked on everything, but with such an old Tardis you could never be sure when the next part broke down.

"Ah, there's the problem … a burnt wire and a completely destroyed flight stabiliser circuit…" He appeared again, only to face the Master who inspected the metal piece of the Tardis critically.

The latter squinted to see some details on the technical module in the dim light. "But how can this be responsible that we are having this complete breakdown and floating around somewhere and somewhen in the universe?"

"No idea, but the girl is old, so a small thing like this can have fatal repercussions. I don't crawl down there every few hours and work for fun!" The Doctor pointed at the console and tried a smile, but he didn't really manage it. This had been caused by more than a simple circuit, and he had to find out what it was, and how he could fix it.

"Oh, and I thought you do this to show her your love." The Master had found his grin, which looked even stranger in the eerie light.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "No time for cheap jibes, I think I have a spare part for this somewhere in one of my storerooms…" He walked towards the entrance to the corridors with determination, and noticed that the Master, of course, was following him. He turned around again and laid every single scrap of persuasiveness into his voice. "You better stay here and look if something else is broken. As long as the girl is in lockdown she can't hurt you."

"But–"

"No buts. Besides, I'm the only one who'll find something in the storerooms. Stay here, please!" More persuasiveness, and a hint of his puppy dog eyes; he couldn't afford more at the moment.

The Master stared at the other Timelord for a millisecond before he looked to the side, at the console. "But don't expect me to rescue you if you fall in the pool again."

The Doctor just nodded, a trace of a smile on his lips, turned around and jogged into the dark inside of the Tardis.

The Master sighed heavily as the Doctor had vanished and considered for a moment if he should really crawl under the console. He didn't even have a screwdriver, neither sonic nor laser, let alone any "normal" tools, or a torch … how should he actually do something?

The thought struck him like lightening. The Doctor hadn't left him behind as a help, he thought him safe here! The bastard knew something the Master had missed.

_Calm down, just wait, he will come back._

"Yana, you're the one I need at least right now!" The Master yelled and desperately grasped for his head, oh, how he wished that he could get rid of Yana, Koschei, the drums, just to think clearly!

"Talking to oneself isn't a sign of sanity."

For a moment he thought that he had heard just another voice inside his head, but then he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned around.

There stood a girl. On the first glance human, with long, reddish looking hair and a short summer dress which appeared black in the weak light. In her right arm she held a big rag doll with light hair, in real life maybe blonde, with a big grin painted on. The girl herself had an enigmatical smile on her lips.

"Who … how did you get in here?" the Master stuttered. He thought he knew this girl, like in a dream …

"Oh, the Master doesn't know who I am … lost and forgotten, in a dying Tardis." The smile became a malicious grin. "And the Doctor, surrounded by danger, searches in the wrong place … and in the darkness the Grim Reaper waits!" The girl laughed, and within the blink of the eye she had disappeared. The Master looked around, utterly confused, but he was alone in the weirdly illuminated room.

"Doctor?" he yelled, but heard nothing. He walked towards the passage unsteadily, looking around again and again. He wasn't sure if there really had been a girl standing there, or if he had just imagined it, like so many other things. He shouted for the Doctor another time, but again no response.

If he walked into the corridors he risked to get lost. The Tardis might have shut down herself, but that might not keep her from teasing and confusing him. But when he stayed the Doctor might be attacked, and he wouldn't know of it. And when the Doctor was dead or hold captive, the control room would be his grave.

"Bloody hell."

He made a step into the corridor. Strangely the light here was more of a dusty yellow, but it flickered unstably. He slowly passed the kitchen and one of the guest rooms; at least he thought he recognised the doors to those particular rooms. Then there was the first junction, and he looked back to the control room. If he turned off now, he couldn't go back anymore. But he had to, alone in the console room with this creepy girl, no … s_urrounded by danger … Grim Reaper …_ It was a warning.

He decided to turn right, this time. Left hadn't brought him luck.

Another two junctions, one right, the other left, he shouted for the Doctor, but again heard nothing, only a … very quiet … metal squeaking. He went left at the next turn-off, hearing the sound louder there, maybe the Doctor worked at something, but at the sight of the next corridor his breath caught.

"Exterminate! Exterminate!"

*+-M-*-D+*

_Ah, my__ famous cliffhangers are finally back! And, oh, did I mention the time of no updates in the next few weeks?_

_*giggles* Don't kill me! Please! You could leave a review, though …_


	4. On the Run

**Disclaimer:** David Tennant was John Simms Doctor, and John was glad to be David's Master. This sentence sounds slashy for you, too? Well, we've such a dirty mind … and Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, yadda yadda yadda …

**A/N:**_ Yeah! I'm back :D Only … one month later … um … yeah … the delay was not just caused by my writer's block (which I overcame two weeks ago) but also by the various exams I had to take. And … hurray! I passed all of them. Even my exam in translation, which was … really, really hard. I'm not that good at guessing silly vocabulary _  
So, basically, here is the next chapter. I feel so happy that so many of you reviewed, put it on Alert or on their Fav-list. And after so many of you mentioned it, you're free to make your own shirts with the "Kiss me, I'm a psychopath"-writing. I'll actually do one for myself, I think, and wear it with a smirk when people keep staring at me xD_

_Oh, and yes, the girl form last chapter was indeed inspired from LoM's Test Card Girl. I found here so creepy that I just had to add her. And she even makes sense! In an extensive, kind of … turning-up-again-four-chapters-later kind of way … _

_To cut a long story short, here is the fourth chapter. Again betaed by the famous __**oddood**__, but this one had a second look-over by __**Faithless Reject**__. You can never have enough betas :D_

**A Threat Unseen**

Chapter Four – On the Run

*+-M-*-D+*

Daleks in the Tardis. Daleks in the Tardis. Daleks in the Tardis. Damned, bloody Daleks in the Tardis …

After the first few minutes in which he had simply run through the Tardis to escape from the Dalek suddenly standing in front of him, the Master's pace slowed. His thoughts kept repeating themselves like the patterns on the wall and the floor he walked on, and he had the bad feeling that he was going in circles. He tried to breathe a bit more regularly, ignoring Koschei's laughter because he had fled from a single little Dalek and successfully persuaded himself that the noise in his ears was just his own quickened heartbeat and not the returned drums. Only Yana was unusually quiet.

The next junction came into sight and he carefully looked around the corner. He didn't know how the Daleks had entered the Tardis, or how it was even possible that Daleks still existed, after all, the Doctor had destroyed them – three, four times? – "finally", but like that silly Earth saying, the bad penny always turns up again. And just like him, who would always rise like the phoenix from the ashes, the Daleks would probably also manage to return again and again. And this time they had somehow gotten in the Tardis, because the Doctor had left the bloody door open.

Fortunately, the corridor was empty and he turned right. Here the walls were made out of rough stone and the floor was of bricks that glowed slightly yellow, even in the dim emergency lighting, as if they would fluoresce. To the right and left were some solid wooden doors, which he tried experimentally, but all of them were locked.

He thought about calling for the Doctor. He had the feeling that the Tardis would still send him, somehow, to the corridors which were the furthest away from the Doctor, and maybe the other Time Lord would hear the shout, but then the Daleks would hear him, too. It was so risky.

Another junction and again he slowly approached the corner, only to squeeze into a shadowy niche and hold his breath.  
Cybermen! The new ones he knew from the battle of Canary Wharf, those from the parallel universe. Oh, how long ago it seemed that he had been there, watching the Doctor fight in vain for his stupid humanity. He had been a bit disappointed that he already knew that at least the Doctor had to survive, and that he wasn't allowed to do anything, timelines and all that, but somehow, it had definitely been more fun than running for his life through a dark Tardis …

When the loud stomping of the metal feet had faded away, he peered out of his hiding place and decided the best bet was the opposite direction they went. First he walked slowly, then fell into a trot.  
This was just impossible! Daleks and Cybermen in the Tardis, at the same time, and their last landing had been on a small jungle planet. How did they end up there? This couldn't be, could it? It was so unrealistic, so unlikely, this couldn't be veracious …  
No. He might have seen Yana when he had argued with him, yes, but why should he hallucinate such things, his old enemies? He knew he was mad, but he shouldn't be that mad … hopefully.

Finally, he dared to shout for the Doctor, not once stopping. His shoulder had started to hurt again; it was like a burning that stretched down his whole arm, but he could almost ignore it. As he ran round another corner, again shouting for the Doctor, he stopped and cursed loud and forcefully.  
Again those stupid stonewalls and the yellow brick floor. He had actually run in a circle, damn! Taking in a deep breath he ran both his hands through his hair, a nervous quirk he had copied unconsciously from the Doctor during their short travel together. He looked around, thinking about trying to go back and turning differently, when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, expecting to be confronted with another monster of his past.

He thanked all stars and galaxies that it was just the Doctor peeking out of one of the doors grinning at him broadly.

"Hello, for that curse you would have gotten three weeks detention in the Academy!" The grin of the Doctor fell when he looked a bit closer at the Master. "Why did you run?"

"No time for long explanations, in there!" The Master rushed back to the door, suddenly afraid that Daleks and Cybermen could find them. A piece of wood between him and the lethal weapons might be an illusory safety, but everything was better than standing so openly in the corridors.

The Master locked the door behind him with a primitive bolt and then looked around for something that he could use to barricade the door, deliberately ignoring the Doctor in front of him, who in turn stared at him with a questioning look. Eventually, he grabbed a broken teloanic magnetic amplifier, which he could barely lift by himself (another proof that the Tardis didn't just consist of wreckage and rubbish, but also transported it), and jammed the metal frame against the door. Then he took a deep breath and let himself slid down at the wall next to the door, holding his injured shoulder. He felt now clearly that the wound had started bleeding again; perhaps the suture had broken through the movement. So he closed his eyes, leaned his head against the cool wall, and tried to order his body to be less complicated.

"Master?"

So the Doctor was still there, too. Bollocks.

"What's the matter?"

The Master drew in a deep breath and thought about how to start. The creepy girl? Daleks? Cybermen? That he wasn't even sure he had really seen all three of them or that it hadn't just happened in his mind?

But the Doctor took the decision out of the Masters hands by just asking another question.

"And what's with your shoulder?"

"It hurts." Yes, he was annoyed, and the Doctor should bloody well know it.

The Doctor came up to the other Time Lord, crouching down next to him. "Let me see."

"No." The Master moved away a bit; a futile little attempt to escape.

The Doctor sighed. "Please, Master." He looked at the other Time Lord, and the Master looked back, considering for a second if he would still need his dignity in the next few centuries, and then sighed, lowering his gaze, giving up.

"Thanks." The Doctor's weak smile faded as the Master pulled his hand away and an ugly, dark stain appeared under it, which could be recognised as a bloodstain even in the weak emergency lighting. The Master groaned as he saw the red liquid on his hand and wiped it on his T-shirt.

"That shouldn't bleed anymore…" The Doctor furrowed his brow. "Do you care about this shirt?"

The Master just rolled his eyes. "Why didn't you ask that before you ruined my poor hoodie? And no, do what you like."

The Doctor did not hesitate when he tore open the seams on the shoulder of the grey enabling him to take a closer look at the bandage without moving the arm or shoulder unnecessarily. But the once white gauze was soaked with blood, the Doctor raised his eyebrows.

"But that should have healed already…" He pulled out his sonic screwdriver, scanning the wound.

"Well, it didn't …" The Master felt so bloody exposed. And the Doctor was so calm, even though he still hadn't asked why the Master had suddenly stood in the corridor and then blocked the door. Or perhaps he was so calm _because_ he didn't know …

"Doctor, I…"

"Master, there's something wrong … the pain is more burning than stabbing, right?"

The other Time Lord nodded weakly, simply ignoring that the Doctor had managed to start his sentence in the exact same moment, and thus interrupting him. There were other things on the plate at the moment, more important things.

"That's impossible!" The Doctor ran his fingers through his messy hair nervously and waved the sonic screwdriver again over the shoulder of the Master.

"What?"

"The suture … it's not just broken, the wound … it has become inflamed, too." The Doctor tried to put his thoughts in order and looked at the other Time Lord with a serious face. "Master, if we're hurt the wound does not inflame. We Time Lords are immune to most bacteria, and we have our regeneration energy!"

The Master snorted and rolled his eyes again. "Then I'm not a Time Lord anymore."

The Doctor's eyes grew wide. "Pardon?"

The Master looked aside, unconsciously plucking at the hem of his shirt with his right hand. "When I was shot … there was nothing."

"Nothing? Nothing at all?" The Doctor looked at the other Time Lord in disbelief.

"Not the slightest trace." The Master sighed another time and looked at the Doctor again. "I think the only thing which makes me a Time Lord now are my two hearts and this here." He tapped against his temple, still in the compulsive four-beat-rhythm, and smirked.

For a moment, the Doctor just stared at the Master, but then shook his head. "I will take care of the biggest problem first, and after this we can think about the state you're in." He tried another smile, and this time he succeeded. "Well, now off to the Medical Bay, there I've got everything I need … and this time I will also use my tincture of iodine." The Doctor wanted to rise from the quite uncomfortable crouching position, but the Master's right hand rushed forwards and grabbed him by his sleeve.

"No!"

"What?"

"I … I didn't barricade us without reason." The Master looked in the direction of the door which was still blocked by the teloanic piece of crap.

"That would have been my next question: Why exactly did you do this?" The Doctor stretched himself, despite of the Master's objection and shook off the other Time Lord's hand in a smooth movement. Latter looked at the ground between his feet which was covered in a thick layer of dust.

"There were … I did …" He stopped and simply breathed for a millisecond. Galaxies, this just sounded so … mad. "seeDaleksandCyberman" The sentence came out in a rush and was spoken much too quickly, but the Doctor had understood him perfectly well.

"Daleks? And Cybermen? In my Tardis?" He gasped, but reading the look on the Master's face correct. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!" The Master flared up, but he felt the Doctor's critical look. "At … 55 percent, perhaps?" he added, giving a half-hearted apologetic smile.

The Doctor looked at the door, pulling at his earlobe. "That means that either there are really Daleks and Cybermen out there, or everything…"

"… is just existing within my head; really brilliantly deduced, Watson." The Master finished the sentence and decided to give up the real uncomfortable position on the cold floor and picked himself up arduously. He didn't like to discuss with the Doctor from such a low angle. "But now it's the question, how do we know whether I'm just hallucinating or our old foes are really … real?" He still leaned against the wall, completely exhausted from the short exertion, and watched the Doctor closely.

The latter paced up and down, tearing at his hair. Then he stopped, looking at the other Time Lord again. "It seems that there is nothing left than to go out there and figure it out by ourselves." He fixed his eyes on the Master's shoulder. "But perhaps I should first make sure that you won't leave an all too obvious trace."

The Master looked down and really, the bandage was now apparently completely saturated, because the blood had found its way down his arm and had dropped from his fingertips to the ground. It had already formed a small puddle.

He lifted his gaze again, only to see that the Doctor had taken off his jacket and shirt and was now pulling his short-sleeved T-shirt over his head.

"Well, I know by now that you go for blonde, but I never thought that you're–"

"NO!" the Doctor interrupted the Master quickly, supported by a hectic shake of his head and widened eyes. "I … I wanted … I thought …" the Doctor stuttered, drew a breath and started anew. "I just thought that no-one should steal the shirt from a wounded…" He tried a smile, lifting his own t-shirt indecisively. "May I?"

The Master nodded as a reply, still grinning in a filthy manner.

"Great." The Doctor looked in his trouser pockets for something, but gave up after a few moments and simple tore the cloth into small strips with bare hands. Meanwhile the Master made his way to some boxes standing around, all of them filled to the brim with space crap, and sat down on an upholstery which had perhaps belonged to a pilots seat once. He pushed the destroyed shirt aside and removed the clips from his wonderfully reddened bandage so that the first layers had already fallen off when the Doctor stepped next to him, in one hand the strips of cloth, in the other hand a small wad of some white material which reminded him of cotton wool.

"Where did you get that from?" was thus the Master's next question as the Doctor put the primitive dressing material next to him so he could first remove all of the old gauze.

"I had to improvise and I found an old teddy bear in my jacket pocket."

"Why in all galaxies are you carrying a teddy bear with you?"

"Souvenir…" The Doctor pressed together his lips, making them unusually small. The Master seemed to have hit a sensitive point. But why did he destroy something which apparently meant so much to him? For him, his old … arch-enemy? The Master thought about making a cutting comment about this weakness of the Doctor, but this look on his face … no, better not.

With routine and a slight feeling of déjà-vu the Doctor first took off the soaked gauze, removing as much blood as possible, but avoided to touch the edges of the wound which had turned to an unhealthy black. He would take care of the inflammation as soon as they were in the MedBay.  
As he pressed the former teddy-stuffing on the shoulder and fixed it with the first strip of cloth the Master flinched, but said nothing. The Doctor worked as quickly and as cleanly as it was possible under the given circumstances, and already after a few minutes he attached a final knot to the whole thing. He nodded at the Master, who had stared at some half-smelted part of a Huk'A-spaceship next to him most of the time, and then turned to put on his shirt on properly. He could perfectly do without his jacket, though; somehow it was a bit too warm at the moment.

"Well, now we just have to remove your little barricade and then we'll see what the Cybermen and Daleks think of my Tardis." The Doctor turned round again, grinning, because he had just attempted a little joke, but the Master hadn't even noticed because he was busy knotting the two halves of the t-shirt on his shoulder together with only one hand; or at least he tried to, but failed miserably. The Doctor smiled lopsidedly and searched briefly in his trouser pocket and held a safety pin in front of the other Time Lord.

"It should be a bit easier with this."

The Master rolled his eyes, but took the small metal piece and repaired his shirt in this makeshift manner. Now it couldn't fall off his body anymore, _great_ …

Meanwhile the Doctor was busy removing the teloanic magnetic amplifier from the door. He could move the massive piece only with great effort, but at least he could work at full strength, whereas the Master felt more like he had been put through the mangle at the moment. He was really proud of himself when he managed to clear his arm and left hand of the traces of blood with the hem of his shirt and not feeling dizzy at all. Then he looked up, but the door was (sadly) free again. The Doctor grinned and (typically) held out his hand to help the Master to get up. The latter rolled his eyes again and ignored the offered help, stood up alone and approached the Doctor.

"You know that it's highly possible that some Daleks are waiting for you out there?" The Master attempted to make his voice not sound as weak as he felt right now.

"Yep, but what have I got this for?" The Doctor tapped at his temple, still grinning. Oh, the Doctor could always cover his fears with a manic smile.

"I would prefer a laser screwdriver."

This time it was for the Doctor to roll his eyes. "You don't get any dangerous weapons in your hand as long as I'm near you … you're ready?" The Doctor put his hand on the bolt.

The Master breathed deeply, looked first at the Doctor, then at the wood the door consisted of, which seemed in the flickering light so … dark. "As ready as one can be for his imminent death, I think…"

The Doctor's grin grew even wider. "Well then, allons-y!" And with this, he opened the door.

*+-M-*-D+*

_Oh! This was my first ever "Allons-y__!" in one of my fanfics, I think :D And it's also a cliffie, oh, how I've missed them xD_

_And I just__ noticed that I'm somehow melting together the Master personality with the bits and bites I know about John Simm. I read this article about him in the DWM from December 2009 the other day where it says that he is a "A1 swearer", and I think this strand of character fits the Master, too xD So please excuse the multitude uses of "bloody" and "damned" in the chapter, I just had to …_

_Oh, and before I forget it! I've done some "art" and put it on deviantart (link can be found on my profile). I'm not that good at drawing, but they're my little chibis … and somehow drawing them helped me to get over my writer's block. Really! And if you want to be even nicer to me, you're going to vote for my pictures at the contest I've entered … Maybe winning will help me to translate quicker :3_


	5. Dream and Reality

**Disclaimer:** Still. Not. MINE.

**A/N:**_ I … really have no excuse. There have been a lot of RL issues, a lack of muse to do anything DW-related and an attack by evil TW-plot bunnies. I now have three running TW-stories and this story … BUT I PLAN TO FINISH EVERYTHING. Even if I need another year. It has not been abandoned :-)_

_This time, I have to massively thank Demon (aka __Inspired Demon of Fiction__) because she __gave__ me a good kick up my arse __to translate this chapter. And of course my faithful beta __**oddood **__who did her magic and __put the __final__ touches to the chapter :3 *hugs both of them*_

_And now … CHAPTER! _

**A Threat Unseen**

Chapter Five – Dream and Reality

*+-M-*-D+*

The Doctor had opened the door with a bit too much force, so that the dark wood knocked with a dull sound into the teloanic magnetic amplifier, which had been moved only sloppily to the side.

Unconsciously, both of them held their breath, but the only thing the yellow, still unstable flickering emergency lighting in the corridor revealed was that neither Cybermen nor Daleks greeted the two Time Lords.

The Master sighed; a sigh of relief or just a reaction to holding his breath, he didn't know. However, the Doctor had already stepped out of the storeroom, bold as he was (or stupid, depending on the point of view), looked left and right and then turned on his heels, looking again at the Master.

"Nothing, nada, niente." He had shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, portraying a picture of composure. However, the Master knew the other Time Lord too well to miss the little wrinkles around the corner of the Doctor's mouth. Even in the weak light he could see that the calmness of him was just a façade; a good one, but it was still obvious.

"You're still too besotted with those silly human languages." The Master stepped out onto the corridor as well, making sure for himself that the coast was clear, but the Doctor was right. They were completely alone.

"I could assure you in Judoon that this corridor is empty," the Doctor said grinning as he bounced up and down.

"And I could assure you in Judoon that an empty corridor doesn't mean we can be careless", the Master retorted, scrutinizing the Doctor, who finally stopped with that bloody bouncing and stared back.

"I'm not stupid, Master."

"I wouldn't be so sure on that." A broad grin.

The Doctor's right eyebrow was raised. "I see, you've got a new hobby."

"Oh, it's more like reviving an old tradition." The Master turned his head left and right demonstratively, just to look at the Doctor, again grinning. "Are we playing target any longer or do we still follow that oh so brilliant 'plan' of yours?"

The Doctor breathed deeply and counted silently the reasons why he hadn't thrown the Master into a black hole at the first opportunity. One. They were the last of their kind; they just had to stick together. Two. The Master had changed and thus deserved a second chance … although … wasn't it more something like his eighth? Or fifteenth? He had lost count at some point in time. And C, no, Three. …Wait, was that all?

"You're right, we should keep our eyes open." The Doctor had come to the conclusion that discussion was futile and looked around again. He decided to try the passageway to his left, as the lighting was a little better. "That way."

He had hardly walked two steps when the Master appeared suddenly next to him and grinned at him from the side.

"A miracle has happened! The Doctor admits that the poor lunatic is right!"

The other Time Lord stopped abruptly, sucked in a breath and threw the Master a withering look. "Could you please stop annoying me?"

"Oh, am I?" The Master's grin broadened.

"Master…"

"Say please." The blonde Time Lord stepped towards the Doctor, so close the tips their noses nearly touched and stared right into his face. The Doctor stared back, for the count of one breath, another one…

"Please."

"I knew it!" The Master nearly toppled over laughing. "Personified sanctimony!"

The Doctor just sighed, turned without another word and walked further down the corridor.

"Doctor!" The addressee didn't react. Well, maybe another strategy would do it.

"You don't hear her anymore, do you?"

The other Time Lord finally stopped, but didn't turn back towards the Master. However, even in the weak light the Master could imagine how his shoulders sagged just a bit.

"Probably already since she has gone into lockdown," the Master continued, slowly approaching the Doctor. "You didn't search for any spare parts but hoped that between all that outer-space junk you had hidden a secondary console." Meanwhile he was again next to the Doctor, who was studying the tips of his Chucks very closely. "Didn't you?"

The other Time Lord looked up; however, he didn't look straight at the Master but rather stared ahead into the flickering illuminated corridor.

"Since when have you known?"

"To quote you, 'I'm not stupid'."

Again, the Doctor breathed deeply. Had he really forgotten that the Master wasn't one of his normal companions, but was thoroughly equal in knowledge and genius?

"We should go to the control room; there we could achieve the most." Finally the Doctor turned his head and looked at the Master.

"And your injury?" His voice sounded so … worried.

"I'll survive." From one second to another the Master's derisive smile changed into a more questioning expression. "So, which direction?"

The Doctor sized up the Time Lord next to him. He let his shoulders droop, and though the light was so unstable and more shadow than actual light, it was visible how pale he was.

But the Master was right, if any more parts of the Tardis got broken, vital parts like the heating or the life support system, they would both be dead. No second chances.

Slowly, he nodded and then took a breath. "Good. But I think it's better if I go first."

"Do I have a choice?" the Master snorted sarcastically.

Suddenly the Doctor could do nothing but grin. "If I'm honest, no."

Another snort came from the other Time Lord, but he made no further comments. Apparently, for the very first time in his life, the Master preferred the well-being of the Tardis (and of both of them) to his own ego.

The Doctor stared again at the corridor in front of him. Meanwhile one of the lamps, which produced the on-going flickering of the lights, had given up completely and thus made the way before him much darker than just minutes ago.

Did his worst enemies actually wait behind the next corner?

"Well, follow me!"

At least one of his archenemies could not ambush him anymore as he walked just next to him…

+M*D+

For the next few minutes the two Time Lords walked silently through the sparsely lighted corridors of the Tardis leaving about one arm's width between them, silently but quickly falling into old, paramilitary habits. It was almost 850 years ago that they had learned the basics of military strategy in the Time Academy and fought their way through staged battles with weapons that resembled human paintball markers, but it was just a matter of the situation that, even after 800 years with uncounted feuds and mutual plans of revenge, they formed a well-practised team.

They took turns when it came to scouting out the next passageway, while the other kept the current corridor in view. However, only to the Master it appeared strange to move along in such a way without any weapons. Stars, even a bloody cricket bat would have been enough! But no, Tardis-Rule No. 1: Little Master may not play with things which just remotely could be used as a weapon.

He swore to himself, so quietly even he himself could only barely hear it.

For quite a while they were walking though corridors which resembled in their looks the one you would find on "real" spaceships: Ominous tubes above their heads, electric wires as thick as an arm attached to the walls and the ubiquitous gratings under their feet. Adding the now dark red emergency lighting and everything could have been taken directly out of any horror movie.

Additionally, there was the fact that said grating was just loosely bolted together so that every step resounded and created an echo which disturbed especially the Master. Was someone following them?

Great. Now he was becoming paranoid, too. Welcome to Stage 4 on the Scale of Lunacy!

But no – there _was _something. He pricked up his ear and watched his and the Doctor's steps (who didn't seem to notice the echo) really carefully and … there, there! There was a clank, falling right between the sounds of their own steps. It sounded like … like metal feet on rusty grating.

Unthinkingly, he grabbed the Doctor by his upper arm and pulled them into a small, dark niche between two vertical running ventilation shafts.

"What–" The Doctor was visibly confused by the surprising action of the other Time Lord, but the Master put his index finger on his lips.

"Sh… Cybermen." He whispered the words, and suddenly the Master realized how small the niche actually was. There was barely a hand's width place between their chests, and the Doctor had surely noticed how the other Time Lord's breathing had quickened. But apparently it was enough to keep the Doctor's mouth shut for a change, because the only thing he did was nod.

A few seconds passed in which the Master could only hear his own, noisily beating hearts. The sudden effort of pulling the Doctor and himself into the niche had exhausted him more than he had planned, and unfortunately it hadn't soothed the pain in his shoulder, either. Nevertheless he tried to concentrate and listened.

There, there it was again. Rhythmical stomping, metal on metal. And it got closer.

He leaned his head carefully out of the niche so he could see the corridor. The problem was that he had to turn his head to see the other half of it, and unfortunately it seemed like the noise came from that direction.

For a few moments he just stared down the corridor, a bit uncomfortable with his skewed neck, waiting. The rhythmical stomping became louder, and louder, and louder … and suddenly a squad of Cybermen came around the corner. Instantly, the Master turned his head, wanting to hide deeper into the shadows. The Doctor however was more than clearly visible, leaning with nearly all of his upper body out of the niche.

"Well, I don't see anything…" the Doctor said thoughtfully, before one very, very angry (and worried … but the Master was sure that this was just Yana's influence, he didn't _worry_ about anyone) Time Lord grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back into the niche, praying to the Stars that no Cyberman had seen them…

Just then the Master realized what the Doctor had said.

"Wait … you can't see them?"

The Doctor shook his head. "There's just an empty corridor…"

The sympathy and sorrow in the Doctor's gaze disgusted the Master, but at the same time he felt something break inside of him. Welcome to Stage 5 … Now he would be insane in the eyes of the Doctor forever; poor, little, crazy Time Lord…

Just before he lost himself in self-pity, he noticed a little detail.

The stomping had stopped.

He looked into the corridor again, this time less carefully, expecting to find that the chimera had vanished because of his epiphany, but the seven deadly Cybermen were still there. The sight had changed though, now… they were _frozen_. In the middle of movement, with raised legs. As if time itself had stopped around them.

"Well, that's interesting…" He was actually speaking his thoughts out aloud, but of course the Doctor had to ask.

"What?"

The Master looked at the other Time Lord again. "The Cybermen have stopped. Like they're frozen," he repeated his discovery.

The Doctor's right eyebrow wandered skywards. "How did you do this?"

"How should I know? I'm the insane one here! You're the Doctor! Go on, analyse me!" he flared up, simply because the whole situation was so scary, even to him. Why had the hallucinations suddenly stopped?

_Your hand._

Yana's voice was quiet, but the Master knew exactly what he meant: His right hand still rested on the Doctor's shoulder from when he had pushed him against the covering of that ventilation shaft to "save" the Doctor, just a few minutes ago.

Again, he turned around, focused on the Cybermen and raised his hand a few millimetres; just enough that he didn't touch the Doctor anymore.

The Cybermen made one step and then froze the exact moment the Master put his hand back on the Doctor's shoulder.

"Really … amazing." He did the trick three more times, letting the Doctor doubt the Master's sanity only more. Why did he keep tapping his shoulder and watching the corridor like he was hypnotized?

"Eh … Master?" the Doctor interrupted. Said Time Lord just wanted to revive and stop the Cybermen a fourth time but then he realized that the Doctor still couldn't see the humanoid robots. So, he left his hand on the Doctor's shoulder and gave him his most convincing grin.

"It seems like my hallucinations stop … as long as I touch you."

Again, one of the Doctor's eyebrows was raised, but was soon followed by the other one; the Time Lord's face was the definition of amazement. "What?", he said incredulously.

The Master rolled his eyes. "Welcome to my world." He turned around again, deliberately avoiding the Doctor's gaze and looked at the frozen Cybermen. "I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do." The Master snorted quietly and tried to sort his thoughts. It was really disturbing how his psyche did not only confuse him with Yana, Koschei and the Drums, but now manifested itself as a kind of unconscious comment that only the Doctor could save him. How _funny._

The Doctor thought about the whole situation, too, and frowned. But he didn't know a solution at the moment, either.

"Master?"

The other Time Lord turned back. "What?"

"We can't hide in here forever, we have to walk on," the Doctor said in a serious voice, and the Master nodded.

"Yeah, there's no reason to hide any longer, right?" He tried to grin, but somehow he didn't succeed. The Doctor in turn twisted his lips into a half-smile, and then noticed something essential.

"Ehem…" The Doctor pointed with his free hand on the occupied space. "Your hand is still on my shoulder."

The Master gave another snort. "And I won't take it away from there. I don't wish to be killed by one of my hallucinations."

"Do you think that's possible?" Oh, again such _sympathy_ in the voice of the other Time Lord.

"Doctor, I see my and your most terrible enemies running through the Tardis and they're literally frozen by body contact with my arch enemy – well, _I_ think that many things are possible at the moment."

"You're probably right on that", the Doctor said with a half smile.

The Master raised his eyebrow in astonishment. "That's the second time you're admitting that today."

"I said you're brilliant." This time the Doctor smiled his typical, broad Doctor-grin.

"Oh, my ego likes to hear that." The Master grinned back and looked again out at the corridor. Nothing had changed. "What is holding us up?"

"The thing with your hand on my shoulder is going to be a bit awkward..." The Doctor raised his hand and wiggled with his fingers. "However, we could also–"

"Don't even_ think_ that I'll hold hands with you!" One of the Master's eyelids fluttered. "I'm not one of your little ape girls!"

"What a pity." The Doctor's hand was lowered.

"Sometimes one could actually think you bat for the other team," the Master giggled and let his hand slide a bit downwards so that he now kept a tight grip on the Doctor's upper arm.

"And sometimes _I_ think that you read too much into some things," the Doctor replied cockily; a complete other strategy than the first time the Master had implied that he was from … "the other team".

"Oh, how sad." The Master's grin was again so … dirty.

"Can we go on now?"

"Of course." It was incredible how the Master could make his voice sound so childlike and innocent. The Doctor breathed deeply. Om … That's just his sarcasm … om…

The Doctor put on his grin again. "Great, allons-y!"

"Oh, and your French is still crappy."

The Doctor rolled his eyes for the thousandth time within only a few hours. This was going to be fun…

*+-M-*-D+*

_Good? _


End file.
